


cling to me

by louisth



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut, Sub Harry, Top Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:28:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8467024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisth/pseuds/louisth
Summary: Harry is clingy. Louis doesn't mind.





	

_Harry can’t help it._  
  
He’s a clingy person in general, always has been. He wouldn’t let go of his mum the first day of school, cried when they tried to pull him away. He followed his sister around everywhere as a kid, scared to let her out of his sight. Even his friends before X Factor knew just how he could get, and they would take turns dealing with that side of him.  
  
And now with the boys, it’s worse. Or better, depending how you look at it. Because they’re touchy feely too, often cuddling up on the couch. And Harry gets attached, gets completely attached to them. He pesters Liam all the time, asking questions, annoying him until he flips him off and escapes. He makes food as an excuse to spend time with Niall, watching tv until the blonde boy gets bored. He even smokes occasionally so he can spend more time with Zayn, but that’s clearly his alone time, so he stops.  
  
And then there’s Louis. Who Harry may or may not have a gigantic crush on. He’s all tan skin, smile lines, twinkling blue eyes and feathery hair just begging to be mussed up. He’s wit, energy, immaturity at its finest and he annoys just about everyone _except_ Harry, because Harry wants more. So much more.  
  
So yeah, he’s clingy. He follows Louis around like a lost puppy dog, star struck by how perfect he is, how lovely. He laughs whenever Louis does something even remotely funny, indulges in all his crazy nonsense. He always has his hands on him, or vice versa. They hug, they cuddle, they fall asleep together on the couch. They just work, Louis being big and bright, Harry bathing in his shine. He soaks him up like a sponge, brain chanting _moremoremore_.  
  
Louis seems to like the attention, the never-ending love and adoration. With Harry he’s different. To others he’s blunt, sometimes even rude, but he never looks at Harry with anything other than fond annoyance, and even then, he never criticizes. He’ll tease, sure, but it’s caring and soft, not spiteful like usual. Harry thrives under it.  
  
Harry doesn't realize how clingy he really is, until the others comment on it. Louis gets up, Harry gets up. Louis sprawls out on the floor, so does Harry. Louis sneaks booze into the house, Harry helps. Louis gets caught, Harry takes the fall right with him. Zayn will often roll his eyes and comment about how needy Harry is, how much he needs Louis’ time. It makes him blush and fidget, but Louis always defends him, jokingly, but still meaningful.  
  
“Jesus, you’re like a kitten today.” Louis says one night, after hours of Harry being overly, ridiculously, _stupidly_ clingy. He can’t help it, it’s one of those days, and he’s homesick and didn't get much sleep and all he wants is to cuddle up with Louis, have the older boy play with his hair, sing softly to him, give him attention.  
  
Harry blushes from his spot beside Louis on the couch, Louis’ fingers still scratching his scalp. He supposes it’s true, as he’s nearly purring.  
  
“Sorry.” Harry apologizes, biting his lip and preparing many excuses in his head. But there’s no need.  
  
“S’fine, Haz.” Louis smirks, mirth in his cerulean eyes. “It’s cute, actually.”  
  
And if Harry wasn't already red as a beet, he sure is now. His stomach flip-flops and he snuggles into Louis’ side, inhaling his vanilla scent.  
  
“Oh?” He asks, trying to sound casual. He probably fails.  
  
“Mm.” Louis hums, scrolling through his phone with his free hand. “My little clingy kitten.”  
  
Harry ignores the fluttering of his heart and laughs slightly, the two of them falling back into comfortable silence, Louis never letting up on his massaging of Harry’s curls.  
  
And so it goes, really. Harry is all over Louis, never wanting to let him go. He’s tethered to him, special with him. Each week they get through eliminations, him and Louis hug each other so tight they might break, and they (Harry can’t speak for Louis, but he assumes) love it. They just never get tired of each other, and it doesn’t help that Harry thinks he’s falling, _hard_ may he add, and those little looks Louis sends that are for him, _only_ for him...well.  
  
Some nights, Harry crawls into Louis’ bed when he can’t sleep, pulling the sheets over him as well and laying there, waiting as the older boy wakes up, stirring and blinking away sleep to focus on his best friend.  
  
“Uh, hi?” Louis mumbles, feigning annoyance. He fails, probably due to fatigue. Or maybe he just can't lie to Harry.  
  
“Hi.” Harry smiles, dimples clearly showing, as Louis’ eyes get stuck there.  
  
He waits for a minute, and when Louis meets his gaze again, there’s a pink tinge to his cheeks. He rolls his eyes, lifts his arm up and says “Well, come on then.”  
  
Harry smugly curls into his hold, nestling into the crook of his neck and pulling him close by fisting his hands in his t-shirt. Louis presses a kiss to his hair before settling his chin there, relaxing again.  
  
“Thanks.” Harry says, once again, unneeded.  
  
“Shut up, Hazza.” Louis scolds, but Harry can hear his smirk.  
  
“Kay.” He whispers, and drifts off to sleep, listening to the heartbeat that means so much to him.  
  
And it gets worse. Or once again, better, depending on how you look at it. Harry is completely infatuated. He catches himself staring, staring all the fucking time, and everything Louis does, absolutely everything, makes him swoon. He physically has to hold back, has to stop himself from hugging, kissing, touching, all over, all the time because he wants Louis, wants all of him.  
  
And sure, he knows it might be a bit crazy, but he wonders if maybe Louis wants it too, just a bit. It’s a far off idea, that much he knows, but. He can't help but want it so much it hurts.  
  
Louis has bad days sometimes. They’re rare, but they hit like a hurricane. He’s so loud and beaming usually, so when he falls, when he breaks, it’s like all that energy and personality bundles together and shoves outwards. He lashes out on everyone, snaps, shouts, _pushespushespushes_.  
  
Except, for some reason, he’s a lot nicer to Harry. Of course he’s still snippy and short tempered, but he holds back, never gets overly angry with Harry, and though that makes him happy, he can't help but wonder why.  
  
He doesn't have much time to think about it though, because Louis is going off on Zayn for something stupid, and he has to intervene.  
  
“Louis, Lou, stop.” Harry coaches, stepping in front of him and holding his arms, forcing him to meet his eyes. Louis’ are bluer than ever, sparking with frustration, and Harry tries not to get too lost in them.  
  
“Why the fuck should I? He’s being completely unfair!” Louis says, raising his voice so Zayn, who is storming away, can hear. Liam and Niall watch on grimly.  
  
“Lou-”  
  
“No, he is! Do you really think he’s right?” Louis asks, and Harry doesn't even know what he’s talking about, he hasn’t being paying attention, but he shakes his head anyways.  
  
“No, I don’t, but you need to chill out, alright? Come on.” Harry tells him, leading him out of the room, into the hall, up the stairs. Louis follows, hand still holding Harry’s (when did that happen?) silently brooding behind him.  
  
When they reach their room, Harry opens the door and pulls Louis in, bringing him over to the bed and watching carefully as he flops down on it, burying his head into the pillow.  
  
“Fucking douche.” He mutters, and Harry knows it’s meant for Zayn, so he sits down beside the older boy, reaching out to push his fringe back.  
  
Louis meets his gaze, looking mildly annoyed, but Harry just lays down beside him, nudging their noses.  
  
“Hey.” Harry says, running his hand up and down Louis’ arm. “Wanna talk?”  
  
“No offense Harry, but I don’t want to deal with your clinginess right now.” Louis says, and it shouldn't hurt, but it does, and Harry sits up quick, turning away so the other boy won’t see his eyes well up.  
  
“Right, sorry.” Harry mumbles, voice thick. A familiar had settles on his back, and he hears Louis sigh.  
  
“I just. Harry, you never leave me alone. And I’m not mad, but like, I just need to be alone. Can you go?” Louis asks and Harry takes a deep breath, blinking back tears.  
  
He knows it’s just because Louis’ having one of his days, and he knows it shouldn't even make him feel bad because he _is_ crazy clingy, but he feels like he’s been stomped on, and he focuses on not letting Louis see him upset.  
  
“Yeah, kay.” Harry croaks, and he knows he didn't wait long enough because it’s clear he’s upset, so he opts for running away.  
  
He quickly gets up and hurries toward the door, but Louis’ voice stops him again. “You’re not seriously crying right now? Harry, calm the hell down, I just need some space away from you.”  
  
And it’s the _from you_ that hurts the most, so Harry slams the door behind him and stumbles down the steps, running right into Liam, who takes one look at him before gathering him in his arms, calling Niall, Zayn and a couple other contestants over for them to put in a movie and make popcorn. It’s a nice thought, but Harry misses Louis, even though he’s right upstairs.  
  
He cuddles with the others, taking a small bit of comfort from them, but it’s not the same.  
  
The next morning, he wakes up on the couch, having fallen asleep there for fear of going upstairs and upsetting Louis some more, and there’s a crick in his neck. But there’s also his favorite person in the world, hugging him tight, kneeling on the floor there, kissing his collarbone.  
  
“Louis?” Harry mumbles, watching as the older boy snaps his head up, smile growing.  
  
“Hey, love.” Louis whispers, and Harry blushes at the pet-name.  
  
“Thought you were angry with me.” Harry says, biting his lip. Instantly, Louis looks incredibly guilty.  
  
“Fuck, no, I’m not, I’m so sorry about that, I feel terrible, I was so mean to you-”  
  
“No, it’s okay. You had every right to say what you did. I’m clingy, I know. I should work on that.” Harry interrupts, sighing. It’s true.  
  
“No, Harry...I like that. I’ve told you before.” Louis says, tilting his chin up, making him look. “I guess I was just wondering why you’re like that, and I was being a right prick yesterday, and it just came out wrong. Y’know? I'm sorry.”  
  
Harry nods, pursing his lips. “Mhm. I dunno why I’m like that. I just get clingy?”  
  
Louis shakes his head fondly, moving to straddle Harry on the couch, playfully poking his stomach.  
  
“No, silly. I mean with me. It’s more with me.” He grins, like this is something he’s proud of. Maybe it is.  
  
Harry blushes, but lying doesn't cross his mind once. That’s the thing with Louis and Harry. They’re honest. Sometimes ridiculously so. (One night near the beginning, Louis told Harry he was special, different, and he said it like that was the best thing in the world. Harry blushes every time he thinks about it.)  
  
“I just. Wanna spend more time with you. Spend all my time with you. You’re just. I just like you.” Harry admits, shrugging in hopes of downplaying it. It doesn’t work, because Louis raises his eyebrows before smirking.  
  
“Oh. Okay.” He stammers, but then shrugs as well. “Well, you’re welcome to be as clingy and needy and cuddly as you like, Curly. Seriously.  
  
Harry meets his eyes and nods warily, reaching up to hold one of the older boy’s hands, which are planted on his chest.  
  
“You sure?” He questions, feeling a little happy when Louis frowns.  
  
“Yeah, Haz. Look, I’m just as into...this, or whatever, as you are.” Louis tells him, flushing. Harry’s heart soars.  
  
“Alright.” He says, leaning up to press a kiss to Louis’ heated cheek, lingering for a moment. “Breakfast?”  
  
That day, they’re cuddlier than ever, Harry being clingy to the max. He follows Louis around, trailing after him when he gets snacks, holding onto his arm when they go to rehearsals, snaking his arms around his waist from behind when he’s singing so he can feel the vibrations of his fucking _angelic_ voice, noting that Louis seems completely happy about all of it.  
  
That night is their first kiss.  
  
Sure, they’d drunkenly pecked each other before, but never anything real, meaningful. But that night, they watch Doctor Who on the couch at three in the morning, everyone else in the house asleep, and Harry’s wrapped around Louis, head over his heart.  
  
“Um, Harry?” Louis asks, like he does when he knows something will be slightly awkward. Great.  
  
Harry lifts up to look at him, raising an eyebrow. Louis sighs and jumbles it all together, the words slurring. “When you said you liked me, did you mean that you _liked_ me?”  
  
Harry processes his question and blushes (he’s doing that a lot lately, isn’t he?) ducking his head. “Yeah.” He admits, voice cracking.  
  
He disentangles from the older boy, expecting a rejection, an awkward laugh, something, but it never comes. Instead, he looks up to see Louis smirking at him, eyes crinkly.  
  
And then he pulls Harry back, settling him on his lap, and he kisses him. His lips are soft, hands gentle where they hold Harry around the waist, fingers stroking over his hip. Harry’s nerves are jumping, his breath stuttering, his thoughts swimming because he’s kissing Louis, Louis is kissing him, they’re _kissing_. And that huge, stupid crush, doesn't seem so stupid anymore.  
  
When they break away a moment later, a light whine of protest leaves Harry’s lips, and Louis laughs (but it sounds more like a giggle) and says “Eager.”  
  
Harry doesn’t even deny it, just nods and connects their lips again, fingers entangling in Louis’ silky hair, stomach dipping at the sensation of it. He’s in love, he thinks.  
  
So from there on out, they’re smitten. They sneak around, snog in bathrooms, tongues sliding against each other slickly, eliciting small sounds out of Harry, who’s usually pinned against the door, Louis’ hands firm on his hips. He couldn’t love it more.  
  
This, whatever _this_ is, just works for them. They hold hands under the table, bump knees, share knowing looks. Harry gets butterflies in his stomach every time they touch, and judging by the way Louis is blushing so much more (which Louis will deny each time Harry teases him), so is he.  
  
The night before the second last X Factor show, they’re all nervous, so they stay up late talking, rehearsing for no reason, repeatedly saying _we’ll be fine, we’ll be okay, we’ll make it to the finale_. But they _don’t_ know they will, and that has Harry sneaking into Louis’ bed, holding onto him tightly and only being able to sleep once Louis kisses him sweetly and snuggles close.  
  
When they get eliminated, they cry. They cry a lot. Liam holds Niall as they both sob, and Zayn goes through an entire pack of cigarettes. Harry and Louis have each other. Harry clings as close to the older boy as he can, crying into his neck, feeling him tremble too. He’s heartbroken, they all are, their dreams might be gone.  
  
But more importantly, this means leaving, and they aren’t ready for that, none of them.  
  
When they get back to the house, they all kind of separate. Niall watches tv, Zayn sits outside, Liam calls the girl he’s been seeing. Harry and Louis go upstairs, fall onto their bed, and hold each other desperately, crying as they kiss the air out of each other, absorbing their shivers.  
  
“Don’t leave me.” Harry whines into Louis’ mouth, pulling him closer, trying to meld them into one person.  
  
“I won’t, I won’t, I promise.” Louis promises and then it’s all teeth and tongue, messy, hands clawing at each other, needy little noises falling from their mouths.  
  
And Harry needs more, needs Louis, needs it so much it hurts, and maybe it’s the clinginess amped up, or maybe it’s his love for the other boy, or maybe it’s something else but either way, he’s hardening in his jeans, hips raising to brush Louis’, feeling him having the same reaction.  
  
“Need you.” Harry says, kissing down Louis’ jaw. “Please, please.”  
  
Louis pulls back with lust blown eyes, hands shaking. “Harry...we haven’t even-”  
  
Harry doesn't care that they haven’t even touched each other yet, haven’t gone through the hurried handjobs, messy blowjobs, and he knows that’s how it’s supposed to go but he can't find it in him to care right now, he needs this so, _so_ much, he’s going to cry.  
  
“I don’t care, come on, I need you, you can’t leave, please.” Harry pleads, sucking on Louis’ neck in a way that has him suppressing a moan.  
  
“I’m not leaving you, Jesus, are we even ready?” Louis asks, but he doesn't need to.  
  
“I am. I’ve been for ages. Please, Lou. Please.” Harry begs shamelessly.  
  
He feels Louis give in rather than him saying anything, feels his muscles relax, feels his heart race as he lays Harry down properly, settles between his legs, kisses him for all he’s worth. They’re a mess as they tug off their shirts, explore their skin with nervous hands, timidly grind against one another. Harry’s an absolute wreck already, breathing out of control, stomach pulsing with need.  
  
“Louis.” Harry hisses out when the other boy properly grinds against him, finally getting the hang of it and making it feel _oh so fucking good._ And he needs more.  
  
He snakes a hand down to pop the button on Louis’ jeans, smirking when he gasps. He pulls the zipper down quickly, pushing them off Louis’ hips to palm at his bulge, revelling in the husky groan it gets him. Louis snaps out of it though, moving to undo Harry’s chinos, tugging them down and off, standing up to shuck his all the way.  
  
And then they’re back together, naked except for their small boxers, achingly hard and still so emotional, licking into each other’s mouths hotly. Louis finds a rhythm, rocking down against Harry with more courage each time, and if he keeps it up, Harry’s going to come like this, so he pushes him back, panting.  
  
“Please.” He asks again, and Louis nods, getting lost in his lust now. He doesn't bother with pretences as he tugs Harry’s boxers down to reveal his hard length, hot against his stomach, leaking. His eyes darken as he reaches out to touch, stroke up and down, a touch that has Harry whining highly, hips edging up.  
  
His hands clumsily grapple for Louis’ own boxers, trying to push them down. Louis manages a small laugh, manoeuvring so he can pull them off, throwing them somewhere with Harry’s.  
  
And then they’re both naked and it’s overwhelming, but all Harry wants is _more, closer, hotter, come on_. Their mouths meet in the middle, majority of their nerves gone, because it seems to be so natural for them, kissing and touching. They both have their hands on each other’s cocks, pumping slowly, getting moans to escape their throats.  
  
It progresses from there, Harry using his other hand to grip Louis’ hair, tug him back, plead with his surely glazed over eyes, _moremoremore._ Louis looks nervous, hesitant even, but as he scans over Harry’s face, his cock gives a jerk and he nods, breathing out “Okay, yeah, fuck.”  
  
He pulls away to cross the room and rummage through Zayn’s bag, and Harry already misses him, needs him back, need his contact. He can't even make himself feel bad for being so clingy, because Louis looks so good like that, flawless skin with a sheen of sweat, cheeks tinged pink, hair all messy. Fuck.  
  
He comes back with a bottle of lube, (of course Zayn would have that) and Harry spreads his legs quickly, putting himself on display as he strokes himself, watching Louis’ eyes follow the movement. And then he’s desperate too, looking up to Harry once to ask permission, which he obviously gets, before popping open the cap and spilling out the slick liquid onto his fingers, lining one up with gentle pressure.  
  
Harry nods and Louis presses in, his other hand trembling where it holds Harry’s hip. The feeling is uncomfortable at first, having Louis’ finger inside him, but soon he adjusts and nods again, making Louis start to move in and out, the sensation strange. After a few moments, he breathes out “More.”  
  
Louis adds another, working him through the slight pain, crooking his fingers and scissoring gently, stretching Harry as he touches himself, skin feeling hot. It’s when Louis’ moves his fingers just the right way that Harry squeaks, a sound that turns into a moan as he rocks his hips down, pleasure shooting through him.  
  
“There, there, right there.” He chants, looking up to see Louis soaking him all in, eyes dark, lips parted, breathing fast. He pulls him down for a clumsy kiss, sucking his tongue into his mouth, gasping when Louis hits that spot again, over and over, and _fuckfuckfuck_.  
  
“Come on, I’m ready.” He promises, even though he’s probably not. He knows it’ll hurt, it’s his first time, there’s no way around it. But he also knows that once that fades, it’ll feel fantastic.  
  
“You sure?” Louis questions, stopping his movements, expression worried. Harry nods, speaking through his eyes, hand cupping Louis’ cheek.  
  
“I trust you.” Harry breathes, leaning up to kiss him softly, just once.  
  
“Okay. If it hurts, tell me to stop, yeah? I’ll go slow, darling.” Louis says, and that new pet-name does things to Harry, makes his heart stutter in his chest.  
  
The older boy pulls his fingers out and leans back to squeeze more lube onto his cock, lining it up and taking Harry’s hand in his where it rests on his hip, nodding.  
  
He pushes in slowly, and it hurts. It hurts quite a bit, actually, and Harry squeezes his eyes shut, breath stopping more than once.  But when Louis asks if he wants him to stop, he shakes his head, still wanting more. Once Louis is all the way inside him, he feels so full, and even though it’s painful, it’s also amazing, and he just warns the older boy to wait a minute, let him get used to it.  
  
Louis kisses him, distracting him from it for a minute, mouthing down to his ear, where he whispers litanies of “So good, shh, you alright? You’re amazing, so beautiful, such a good boy, so good for me.” And those words have Harry ready more than anything else, pre-come leaking from his cock as he pinks under the praise, mind going a little fuzzy.  
  
“M’okay.” He whispers a minute later, adjusted.  
  
Louis goes slow, keeping his lips on Harry’s cheek as he thrusts in and out, the friction having Harry keening into him, one arm hooked around his neck and pulling him close, cock rubbing between their stomachs. Their fingers are still linked when they bring them up higher, so Louis can kiss Harry’s knuckles as he rocks into him, moaning himself at the feeling of it all.  
  
“You’re so tight, fuck, so good.” He manages to get out, breathe hot against Harry’s neck, though the words blur in his mind because he’s all pliant, desperate.  
  
Harry mewls, encouraging him, gasping when Louis speeds up, thrusting much faster, and then he angles just right and-  
  
“Shit, LouLouLou _Lou_.” Harry babbles, whimpering as pleasure shoots through him. He locks his legs behind Louis’ back, pulling him in deeper and hissing at the stretch, but loving it too.  
  
Louis pounds into him harder, making sure to hit his prostate each time, and when they lock eyes, both their pupils are blown, making Harry squeeze Louis’ fingers and squirm, silently pleading for more.  
  
He’s close, he’s so close, can feel the coiling in his gut and he knows, _knows_ he won’t last. That’s why he doesn't prolong it, just meets Louis’ movements with his hips, nails digging into the older boy’s shoulder when it gets to be too much, so fucking much.  
  
“Come on, come on Hazza.” Louis whispers, pushing him towards his climax.  
  
Three more thrusts and he’s gone, orgasm hitting hard, making him spill between them. He lets out a choked moan and his eyes flutter shut, the sensation taking over, nerves zinging, head airy. Louis still rocks into him, and when Harry whimpers at the sensitivity, thrashing his head to the side, it tips Louis over the edge and he jerks, coming inside him, hot and pulsing.  
  
They collapse against each other, panting, fighting for breath, and when Louis has the strength to pull out, he falls back against Harry right away, moving the younger boy into his chest. Harry snuggles into his neck, clinging to him as they come down from their highs, fingers shaking where they’re still linked.  
  
“Fuck, you’re amazing.” Louis says, kissing Harry’s messy curls.  
  
“Yeah? I was good?” He asks before he can stop himself, insecurity edging into his mind.  
  
“So good, baby.” Louis tells him and Harry blushes, going all tickled pink again. He feels the warmth in his stomach, and kisses their fingers like Lou did.  
  
Suddenly, leaving doesn't seem so scary. Well, it does, but he has Louis with him, here, holding him close and caring about him, and because of that, he knows he’ll be okay, knows it’ll all be fine. And yet, still, he’s even clingier (if that’s possible) and he shivers in delight when Louis pulls him closer by the small of his back.  
  
“We should clean up.” Louis says, it coming out as a half giddy chuckle.  
  
But Harry shakes his head, clutching Louis closer. “No.” He says in a small voice. “Just stay.”  
  
Louis sighs, but it’s fond, and he kisses Harry’s forehead, pulling the blanket up and over them. They nuzzle their noses as they put their faces together, meeting in a soft, breathtaking kiss, before they fall asleep, exhausted.  
  
The boys find them and tease mercilessly, Niall for the clothing on his bed, Liam for their sated, fucked out selves, and Zayn for using his lube. But Harry hides in Louis’ neck, blushing and giggling along, flicking Louis when he gets a bit snappy.  
  
They have to leave the next day, and it’s horrible, knowing that. They spend the day together, all of them, joking and laughing and yeah, crying. Harry is fucking ridiculously needy, following Louis everywhere, always touching him, never wanting to let go.  
  
“Hey, relax, I’m just getting a snack.” Louis hushes, kissing him once (and ignoring the jibes from the others).  
  
“I just. Don’t want you to leave.” Harry says, and it’s so much more than that, obviously, and Louis tuts in adoration, hugging him tight.  
  
“I’m not. You know that. We’re living together, remember?” Louis reminds him, and Harry pulls back, mouth parted.  
  
“I thought you were joking.” Harry mutters, looking away.  
  
“Nope. We’re gonna live together, and we can be all domestic, and you can be as clingy as you want.” Louis tells him, voice dropping to a whisper near the end.  
  
Harry tackles him to the floor, kissing him through everyone’s laughter.  
  
And the next two weeks are hell, being away from all of them, but especially Louis, and Harry cries a lot, and they Skype and text and call a lot, and he’s lonely a lot, but when they get their new place courtesy of their label (they’re signed to a label, oh god) the first thing they do is kiss in every room, hold each other tight, and abandon unpacking in favor of something much more pressing, like letting their hands roam all over.  
  
They fall asleep all tangled up, and Harry doesn’t let go of Louis, and Louis doesn't let go of Harry.


End file.
